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Thursday morning, 7 AM

Lying beside you, my arm wrapped over and around and then tucked under your downside hip, I marvel, both at how large this tiny part of you has become and at how small it still is.

My thumb finds your spine and wanders up and down and back and forth feeling the hard, pointy edges of your bones. I picture your spine not as a pearl necklace or any other poetic device, but as a line of vertebra after vertebra curling gently from your soft, sweet neck to your boogie hips. I imagine each butterfly of bone that was so perfectly formed while you swam under my own spine.

You sleep, and as you sleep you snort and choke and snore, oh how you snore. I am desperate to intervene, to help, to calm, to cure, but instead I lie still. I lie still because for now, you sleep, and for now, that is good enough.

Comments (16)

Get better, Baby Girl.

Oh, a baby with a cold is such a sad sound! I hope she's making a quick recovery.

Does she only snore when she's ill or is it a talent she picked up from her dad?

Awwww...time for a sleep-over with my own babies.

That was so well written.

It is amazing those little bodies our bodies made isn't it?

I love those moments.
Hope everyone is better soon!

Beautiful. Feel better Mia Bean!

There's nothing sadder then a sick little one. Great post.

Been there... SO many times, I hate even to count.

I hate it when they're sick. Even my big girls become babies again. Just imagine 93 lbs of girl on a lap.

Such a wonderful post. As a grandmother I am amazed to see my daughter flash out in the powerhouse little grandson. He is so unlike her and yet completely a reflection of her as well. I can see his father in him also, but it is the baby I memorized that I recognize in his movements, gestures and expressions.

I feel like I should be whispering this post! I hope you all feel better soon.

Stunning, Beth. A stunning piece of writing. I can totally relate. Thank you for expressing so poignantly and beautifully what I so often think about abstractly.

Poor darlings - the three of you. I hope Mia feels better soon.

So nice, and so well said. Get better soon, little Mia Bean.

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So the Fish Said...

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem, I whisper with my lips close to your ear.

- Walt Whitman

Meet the Fish

I want to get a pet duck and keep it in the bathtub.
I am addicted to chap stick and altoids.
I am freakishly flexible.


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